


A Brief Lesson Before the End of Term

by cmshaw



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-26
Updated: 2002-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmshaw/pseuds/cmshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Malfoy shouldn't cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief Lesson Before the End of Term

He wasn't _crying_, of course. A Malfoy wouldn't _cry_ over a stupid school party, and anyway it was blatant favoritism by that old Headmaster and couldn't possibly stand. He'd write to his father tonight. Even though that wouldn't change the way the party at dinner had been all about bloody Gryffindor and bloody Harry Potter and bloody stupid Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs laughing at Slytherin House the whole time, his father would get the _record_ changed, and that's what would really matter. Of course.

Not that he was crying, but there had been too much pepper in the dinner food and not only couldn't he eat it, now his nose was running. Draco slumped in a corner and waved his friends away; they drifted off in the same funk that had sent all the Slytherins slinking out of the Great Hall before dinner was half through -- before dessert, even. Draco couldn't find his handkerchief anywhere, and, miserable, he rubbed his nose on his sleeve.

"I hope, Mr. Malfoy," said the Head of Slytherin House, "that you are not crying in the corner over some perceived insult."

Draco stuck his chin right out and looked up at Professor Snape. "Of course not," he said. "Don't worry. I'll write to my dad about this tonight."

"Oh?" Professor Snape said, crouching down next to him so that they were eye to eye and offering a clean handkerchief. "And what will you say to your father?" he asked.

Draco blew his nose and said, comfortingly, "Dumbledore can't get away with this, Professor Snape."

"Can't get away with what?" Professor Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

"With cheating on the House Cup, of course." Draco handed the handkerchief back to Professor Snape, who took it gingerly and tucked it away somewhere.

"I trust you are not accusing the Headmaster of cheating," Professor Snape said in the mild tone of voice he often used to discipline students in other Houses.

"It wasn't _fair_," Draco said.

Professor Snape nodded. "No," he agreed, "it wasn't."

"He can't _do_ that," Draco continued.

"Hmm," Professor Snape said. "You disappoint me, Malfoy."

Draco swallowed. "But _sir_," he said, "it's not _fair_."

"That does not mean it cannot be done," Professor Snape said calmly, and Draco swallowed again, working desperately to disbelieve what he knew the professor was about to say. "Points can be awarded at any time before the House Cup is announced, even right before. It was cruel, but not against the rules, for the Headmaster to award enough points to change the rankings."

"_No_," Malfoy said.

Professor Snape put his hands on Draco's shoulders and shook him lightly. "Were you _trusting_ the Headmaster, boy?" he said. He shook him again. "Trust yourself. Trust only yourself. Consider this a final lesson given especially for young Slytherins."

"I don't want a lesson," Draco said.

He heard himself whine and cringed in anticipation, but Professor Snape only said, "I don't care what you want." Draco nodded obediently. "You're here to learn, Malfoy. Well, today you've learned this: never trust that you'll be rewarded later." Professor Snape's voice was hard-edged. "Never follow someone on promises -- I'm not speaking of schoolboy competitions, do you hear me? Have you learned this lesson?"

Draco bobbed his head, scared. There was no one else in the hallways now. "Yes, sir," he said.

Professor Snape let him go and sighed. "No you haven't," he snapped.

Draco's hands bunched into fists inside the slump of his robes. His whole body felt knotted into fists. "Yes I have!" he yelled, and had the satisfaction of seeing Professor Snape blink and lean back. "I get it, right? They hate us because we're better than them! Well, someday they're all going to pay!"

"Just like someday we should win the House Cup?" Professor Snape said.

"No!" Draco yelled. "We should've won the House Cup _this_ year, because this year was _my_ year!" And, to his complete shame, he burst into tears.

Professor Snape handed him the handkerchief again.

After a while, during which time Draco faced the wall and snivelled in the handkerchief, Professor Snape broke the silence by saying, "You'll never get that back, you know. That one innocent moment when all was right with the world and your star was in glory: you'll never have that again." His cool hand rested on Draco's head. "If you're wise, you won't go seeking it elsewhere. There are more adult pleasures to be had."

"I know about girls," Draco said, sullenness holding his voice from shaking.

"I was speaking of intellectual pursuits, young Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape said sternly. "You should find that it is worth more to be respected than to be liked." He bent down and said, very softly, "There were many who believed that the Dark Lord liked them, only to discover too late that they were wrong."

Sure that he was misunderstanding, Draco said, "But You-Know-Who -- he's not like that old coot _Dumbledore_!"

"And do you think," Snape asked him, "that he will be _fair_ to you?"

Horrified, Draco couldn't speak, or even shake his head no.

Professor Snape nodded sharply, once, and stood up again. "Now, I think, this lesson is learned." He patted Draco, not unkindly, on the shoulder. "You should head down to the common room. I had removed from the kitchens a certain quantity of pumpkin juice and sweets for Slytherin House alone tonight, and I see no reason to give _that_ to Gryffindor House as well."

"Yes, sir," Draco whispered.

"You should write to your father," Professor Snape said as they walked down the hall. Draco was merely grateful that there was still no one else around to see him shaking.

"Why?" he asked. "He can't make the world be fair."

"No," said Professor Snape. "Perhaps, though, he will feel that, to improve Slytherin House's chances next year, certain changes can be made. I understand that you will be eligible for the Quidditch team next year."

"Apparently _some_ people join the team as first-years," Draco muttered.

"A team befitting a Malfoy," Professor Snape said, "should be mounted on the sort of broomsticks a Malfoy would ride. Although, of course, the Gryffindors on their old brooms might not think that was _fair_."

"I think we need to teach Gryffindor House a _lesson_, then," Draco said. Immeasurably cheered, he stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket and put his shoulders back, striding down the corridor. If his dad thought he was just going to wait around for the Dark Lord to rise again and fix everything, maybe his dad could learn a thing or two too. From now on, Draco decided, the Malfoys could do for the Malfoys and to hell with _loyalty_ to You-Know-Who!

He thought he heard Professor Snape mutter something to himself very quietly, but before he could ask they were home, and a slightly bitter but very determined throng of partying Slytherin students swept Professor Snape away.


End file.
